CHAPTER 15 #3
“Do not lie to me. I have eyes.” Her voice is calm, but her eyes are blazing. “There is nothing amusing about this. She is learning.”
Riven raises his hands in mock innocence. “She’s being thrown into the sand.”
“Correct,” Mazelle nods once. “And she is learning.”
Riven smirks, and Mazelle doesn't miss a beat. “Would you like to be next?”
His smirk falters and he wisely says nothing.
“I've seen your form,” Mazelle says. “It leaves much to be desired.”
“I think he should be next,” I mutter, shooting daggers at Riven.
Onyx offers his hand and I stare at it, then at him.
“I can stand on my own, Onyx.” I don’t mean for my voice to come out as sharply as it does, but I'm sore, frustrated, and humiliated enough already. The least he can let me do is stand on my own.
“I know you can.” His voice softens, and he lowers his hand. “I was only offering.”
I push myself upright and pain immediately shoots through my hip.
“Actually…wait.” I gasp, clutching my side.
He looks back at me and I sigh.
“Put your fucking hand back.”
The corner of Onyx’s mouth lifts slightly and without a word, he offers it again. This time, I take it.
His fingers close around mine, warm and calloused, and he pulls me gently to my feet.
Pain flares through my leg the instant I put weight on it, forcing a sharp breath from my lungs.
I stumble before I can catch myself, and for one humiliating moment, more of my weight rests against him than I intended.
Damn it.
Mazelle’s eyes find mine. “You did well today. Better than I thought you would.”
I blink, surprised at her admission. “I did?”
“I don’t like repeating myself, Lyra. We'll meet again tomorrow.”
I groan. “I thought you were finished trying to kill me.”
“For today.”
“How comforting.”
If this is only the beginning of training... gods. I’d rather go back to trying to save the dying garden.
The corner of her mouth twitches. “Hardly,” she agrees, then studies me a moment longer, tilting her head. “You're powerful, Lady Tarethyn.”
The title catches me off guard. Damn. Back to Lady Tarethyn.
“With more training, you’ll be unstoppable.”
My brows shoot up. “Was that... a compliment?”
“It was an observation.” She turns and walks away before I can give a response.
* * *
Onyx falls into step beside me as we leave the yard, and neither of us speaks for a while. It isn’t an uncomfortable silence, just a tired one—every muscle in my body aches, sand has found its way into places it has no business being, and my hip has apparently declared war on my body.
“I thought she hated me,” I mutter, thinking back to the compliment-but-not-compliment Mazelle gave earlier.
A quiet laugh escapes him. “She doesn’t. She acts the same with everyone. That’s just… how she is.”
“She definitely could’ve fooled me,” I huff, wincing as we walk back to my chambers.
“I’m sure you’re only saying that because you spent the last hour on the ground.”
“Did I? I hadn’t noticed.” I roll my eyes playfully, smiling up at him.
His smile lingers before his eyes drop to my arm and he stops walking. “Lyra.”
“What?”
He reaches for my forearm, hesitating before his fingers wrap gently around my wrist and turn it toward the light.
His touch is careful, as if he doesn’t want to cause me more pain.
I should pull away. Instead I find myself watching him—the hard line of his jaw, the small crease between his brows, and the concentration in his eyes.
I can’t believe I wanted to kill him a few moons ago.
“It’s already healing,” he says quietly.
I follow his gaze. There’s a cut on my arm that was bleeding but the blood has stopped. Silver-gold light flickers faintly beneath my skin as the torn flesh knits itself back together.
“Does that happen every time?”
“Not always. Do you think a healer can’t heal herself?” I laugh weakly, and wince from the effort.
He gently releases my wrist. “We should get you back,” he says, and that's the end of it.
The walk to my chambers is quiet. When we reach my door, Onyx finally speaks. “Great work today. You held your ground.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Held my ground? I spent most of the day eating sand.”
“And every time she knocked you down, you stood back up.” His eyes meet mine, and the words settle deep in my chest. I look away before the warmth creeping up my cheeks can betray me.
“I don't feel powerful. I haven't in a long time,” I admit.
“Most powerful people don't.”
I search his face for a long moment before sighing. “Did you? Before you became Captain?”
Something flickers behind his eyes—a memory, perhaps—but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.
He shakes his head. “No.”
Before I can ask another question, he steps back. “You need rest, Lyra. I'll send for Talia and Grace to help you this evening.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I have a feeling I'm going to hate tomorrow.”
“Probably. But you will survive.”
That earns the smallest laugh from me. I might survive it, but I know I’ll sure as hell hate it.
He inclines his head. “Goodnight, Lyra.”
I smile, and this one is genuine. “Goodnight, Onyx.”
With that I slip inside my chambers and close the door behind me.